


Lena Luthor, A John Wick story

by LordSantiago



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: BAMF Lena Luthor, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Lena Luthor is John Wick, Lena Luthor-centric, Married Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, SuperCorp, Supergirl characters placed into the John Wick universe, everyone has a role, violence towards pets (i'm sorry)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2018-11-13 03:32:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11176131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordSantiago/pseuds/LordSantiago
Summary: Lena Luthor grieves over the loss of her wife, Kara Danvers.  One small hope is given to her to carry on, however, even that is taken from her.  Inspired by @after-world-chronicles fan edit image of Lena Luthor Chapter 2, based on the John Wick series.





	1. Grieving and Gut Punches

Grieving and Gut Punches

The rain came down steady. The pastor spoke the words to the assembled crowd. The woman didn't hear them. All she ever cared about, everything she ever loved was slowly being lowered into the cold ground. The universe was showing the woman the greatest irony. She had lead a life one second from the edge of death. No qualms at what she did nor how she did it. Until she met the love of her life. And then, life proved it was worth living. A life of sunshine and endless joy spent basking in the light of an otherworldly creature.

But now, that life had ended. The city mourned the loss of its hero, but the woman known as Lena Luthor didn't care. She mourned the loss of her partner, her other half, her one true love if she were to feel romantic. A grand spectacular was happening in the city's central plaza but for her, the end was taking place in a private field overlooking the western coast surrounded by nameless associates.

The crowd left. She stayed only a moment longer, placing the traditional first mound of dirt over the lowered tomb. With icy countenance, she walked steadily towards her driver and the dark abyss awaiting her on the trip home. A lone figure waited by her door, slightly aged but Lena knew the secret skills he possessed, just like her own. Pausing out of respect, she hid behind a set of large darkened glasses.

“My condolences for your loss," the clipped voice growled. She made no move to acknowledge the words. "How are you doing?”

“I keep asking myself," she muttered barely above a whisper. "'Why her?'”

“There's no rhyme or reason to this life," he replied. "It just is.”

"Why are you here, Slade?" She rebuked. The one-eyed man took a deep breath.

“Just," he paused. "Checking up on an old friend.”

The two shared a moment, whether out of respect for the dearly departed or a mutual understanding of previous lines of work. The elder nodded in solemn consideration.

“Goodbye, Lena.”

Lena Luthor watched her old acquaintance walk away, then gave one last look to the private plot. Life was cruel. She had dealt her fair share in it. And now, the irony had come full circle.

***

The wake was held at their private home, tucked away from the bustle of National City. Friends and family attended, none save her wife's sister came close to her all throughout the night. Soon, every one who attended had left. She could have left the mess to the morning but she felt like doing something. Anything.

A knock at the door shook her out her ennui. She wasn't expecting anyone else coming. Perhaps Alex wanted to check in one last time. Opening the door, Lena was surprised by a delivery woman holding a clipboard and a travel kennel by her feet.

"Are you Lena Danvers?" She inquired. A brief memory flew through her mind, sharing of laughter while wrapped in soft linens. A joke spoken in soft whispers over names.

“Yes.”

“Sign here, please.”

Absently signing while looking at the kennel, Lena wondered what was the meaning of all this. A tiny woof and slight pawing at the door piqued her interests. The delivery woman waited still.

“My pen?”

“Oh," Lena realized. "Thank you.”

Gently taking the case, Lena sat in the living room. A letter was taped to the top. A messy scroll written by only one person gave her a moment of pause. With shaky hands, she opened the letter and soon thereafter, the tears began to fall.

_"My dearest Lena,  
I'm sorry I can't be there for you. What may have happened was not your fault. But, I know you, my dearest. You still need someone to love. Please, start with this because a card doesn't count. I will remember you in Rao's light. _

_My best friend. My dearest love._  
_For eternity and a day, I love you. - Kara Luthor._  
 _P.S. Her name is Daisy."_

The damn broke and endless tears fell. The kennel clasp slipped once beneath her fingers, then opened. A small, fluffy Rottweiler fell out. Immediately, she began to lick any part of Lena she could reach from her fingers to her face as Lena clutched the puppy close to her heart. Sadness surrounded her but the warmth of the puppy kept the darkness at bay. Soon, a sense of calmness overtook them both as they fell asleep on the couch.

***

A wet dog tongue was not a good method for a morning wake up call. A frolicking and whiney monster jumped all over Lena's face. Lena fussed for a moment before beginning her day. A quick mental tally of her cupboards made Lena aware she was woefully unprepared for the newest addition to her family. She laughed to herself. Twenty four hours ago, she was prepared to wallow in self-pity and loss. But, Kara knew. She just "knew."

"Looks like we will need a few things for you," she spoke to the little ball of fur. The dog replied with a tilt of the head and a small woof. With a smirk, Lena collected her keys.

Dressed in mediocre clothes of jeans and a comfortable bomber jacket, Lena slipped into her pride and joy: a 1969 Mustang Boss 302. Kara had once joked the vehicle got more attention than she did. Hand built and assembled, Lena reflected upon memories of putting the car together with her superheroic wife along with some steamier moments in the back seat. A quick bark reminded her of her task this morning.

"Easy there, Daisy," she arched an eyebrow. Sliding on a pair of aviators, she clicked the garage remote and they were on their way.

***

A few hours later, Lena drove her car into the closest gas station. As much as her wife wanted the vehicle to be green, their first ride together convinced her otherwise. She began to fuel up when a loud thumping came from the road.

A sleek new, barely legal street ride coasted into the next lane over belching loud, alien music of some kind. Among the modest residents of National City, the music was just another fad of the young. Still, Lena paid no heed even if the alien lyrics were rather crude.

Three men jumped out of the vehicle, one more moderately dressed than the others. He had all the makings of an adult babysitter, even with his blue skin and scales. The other two shoved and shouted insults to each other. One went into the store for road snacks while the other lit up a cigarette. He gawked openly at Lena's car, even giving her a sleazy once over.

"Is this your boyfriend or yours?" He smirked. His boyish charms may work on others, but Lena kept her icy exterior behind her sunglasses.

"It's mine," she replied coolly.

“A Terran Ford Mustang Boss," he stated. "1970?”

"'69," Lena corrected. He gave a leer that would've been sleazy even by a blind person at the joke of the number.

“It's gorgeous," he smiled. His hand slid across the finish, then stepped closer as Lena opened the door. "How much?”

“Excuse me?”

"The car? How much?" He pressed.

"It's not for sale," she concluded by sitting in the drivers seat. However, the stranger had other intentions. The passenger side window was open for Daisy to enjoy the rush of air, but now it allowed the sleaze to ingratiate himself with her dog. Luckily, the dog showed proper decorum and growled at him.

"Oh, how cute! A puppy," he tried to pet her, but the little dog nipped. " _This bitch needs some discipline,_ " he spoke in a rough alien dialect, almost Kryptonian to Lena's disbelief.

" _Not this bitch,_ " she bluntly stated back in the same alien language. The stranger's eyes went wide and his face reddened. He was about to launch into futile tirade about either the car or Lena herself when the blue-skinned babysitter stepped in at the perfect time.

“I apologize for my friend," the brute spoke eloquently. "You have a nice day.”

With one last glare in the strangers direction, Lena went on her way, leaving the entire situation behind her for good. Daisy barked in happiness and soon the rest of the day lay ahead of her.

***

The night was quiet as Lena lay down. A simple whimper alerted her to the fuzzy puppy trying its best to look over the edge of the bed. She gave the little beastie a smirk.

"One night only," she remarked. Picking Daisy up, the puppy curled tightly next to Lena and soon thereafter, both fell asleep.

A small yip and glass breaking woke Lena in the middle of the night. Rising in her sleep shirt, the lone woman went to investigate what the puppy was getting in to. Lena barely heard the whistle of the aluminum bat as it collided with the side of her head. Dazed, she rolled away clumsy taking another hit to her ribs and a glance across her left arm. Immediately, Daisy began barking as loudly as her tiny body could.

" _Shut that fucking dog up!_ " One shouts. She sees through the haze as another chases after the puppy. Her vision blurs as the telltale sound of a single shot rings through the house. A blind punch knocks her closer to unconsciousness, red erupts from her lip and nose.

" _I found the keys!_ " shouted a third. Footsteps closed in and a familiar stranger peered down at her. Pulling down his face mask, his boyish charm came across as sadistic. He gripped her hair, pulling her closer.

" _Discipline this, bitch._ " He slammed her head down hard and Lena welcomed the blessed darkness.

 


	2. Stepping out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena steps out of her home after the most heart wrenching night. Events become clearer as identities are revealed.

The bus creaked back and forth traveling down the city streets. A young boy openly starred at the last arrival. She had stepped onto the bus, without shoes and hands barely scrubbed free of dirt. Her hair was a mess and beneath her leather bomber jacket was a blood-stained white shirt. A far off, hollow look in her eyes gave him a small fright. The boy’s father placed an arm to bring him closer.

The strange woman, almost deathly pale and shockingly dark hair, said nothing to the bus driver. She didn’t even pay though she tried. The attendant merely blocked the kiosk and nodded her back. The woman sat with a brief moment of discomfort, but otherwise just looked like another homeless person on the bus for a free ride.

Twenty minutes later, the bus came to an unused stop in the warehouse district. Garages and trucks crowded the streets. The woman stood up to exit, looking across the street to her apparent destination. The boy peered over too, dropping his toy in the effort to see through the window.

As she left, the woman stooped to return the toy, a well-loved action figure of bright red and blue with cartoony blonde hair. She smiled brightly and the fear the boy felt earlier evaporated.

“Keep this close,” she smiled. There was something else behind the smile. The boy couldn’t tell. “You don’t want to loose her.”

Lena Luthor left the bus and the boy behind, her body weary from the sudden rudeness early this morning. The boy watched her walk away, barefoot and all, clutching a Supergirl action figure all that much the harder.

—-

Winn heard the side door to his warehouse open once, then a soft padding of feet approach. He sat next to one of his newest projects, it’s engine hanging on a crane but ready to go. A padded blanket draped over the trunk with an expensive bottle of whiskey half drunk and two tumblers. Startled, Winn relaxed a bit when Lena stopped next to the car, a steely look in her emerald eyes.

“Is it here?” She asked.

Winn sat straighter, poured two fingers of whiskey in each glass and knocked back one while offering the other to his best friend’s wife. He gave her a once over, the telltale signs of a sleepless night and a bit of trouble on top of it all. Winn blanched when he noticed the blood on her shirt, but didn’t say a word.

“Yeah,” he croaked. “It was here.”

——

A few hours ago...

Tires squealed and loud music blared from a 1969 midnight blue Ford Mustang Boss. Screaming around the corner, three aliens drove into Winn’s chop shop in the middle of the night looking for a nice payout. Or at the very least, a new toy to play with.

The young man behind the wheel roughhoused with a big blue alien in a nice suit while the third played air guitar to the tunes blaring through the warehouse. Winn usually put up with Mon-El of Daxam’s crap on most nights but one he got a glimpse of the car all blood drained from his face. Mon-El tossed the keys around, smiling at his newest acquisition.

“Hey Winn, my man!” He shouted. “I’d love this to be next on your chopping block, but I wanna keep this one for myself. But, you know the drill...take it apart, get me new numbers for it, and if you could add in some of those custom lights along the bottom, that’d be real nice.”

Winn didn’t even bothered to attempt to catch the keys as the Daxamite tossed them. He was stone cold quiet as the ego of the petty car thief inflated to newer limits. Even his compatriots knew something was up before he even noticed.

“Who’s car is this?” Winn asked.

“What?” Mon-El puzzled.

“I asked who’s car is this?” Winn’s voice grew louder and men across the floor took notice. “Where did you get this car?”

“I don’t know,” Mon-El answered. “Some bitch had it. Nice bod, but I wasn’t gonna fuck her for it. I shot her fucking yapper too. Why does it matter?”

“‘Why does it matter?’ He said that,” Winn joked to his foreman. Then, with a sudden burst of bravado, Winn punched Mon-El across the face. There was an audible crunch as one or more of his fingers broke colliding with the Daxamite’s face. Winn let out a slew of profanity as the pain flared in his hand, but didn’t let that end his tirade. “Fuck you, pretty boy! Get this car, get your crew and get the fuck outta my shop. I’m fucking done with you!”

“What the hell, man?!?” Mon-El screeched. “Why would you hit me? Over a fucking car?”

“Yes, over a fucking car! Now, get out!”

Mon-El pulls a gun hidden behind him along his belt. Suddenly, everyone in the shop goes quiet as even more guns are drawn. Quickly, he notices he is greatly outnumbered. Still, no one gets away with striking a member of Daxam’s Royalty.

“Oh,” Winn comments nonchalantly. “You gonna shoot me now? Here, let me make it easier for you.” With his good hand, Winn pulls Mon-El’s gun to his forehead pushing in hard to make sure the shot is clean and quick.

“My mother owns your ass, little man,” Mon-El speaks.

“Fine,” Winn answers. “Have her call me and we’ll see who’s ass is ‘owned.’”

The moment intensifies as Mon-El’s finger squeezes slightly on the gun’s trigger. Others around the warehouse stay still in wait, eager to jump in and aid the boss. The blue bodyguard knows a futile chance when he sees it, but it’s up to his boss’ son to make the first move. Glaring intensely at each other, Mon-El gave up first. Sneering at all watching, he flicked his nose clean then left with his ill begotten car.

Twenty minutes later, with his hand wrapped up in an oily rag and all of his guys ordered home, the shop’s landline rang. He knew who it was. Another heartbeat later, he answered.

“Yes,” Winn spoke.

“I heard you struck my son,” said a velvety voice on the other side.

“Yes, I did.”

“May I ask why?” The feminine voice demurred.

“Because he stole Lena Luthor’s car and shot her dog, that’s why.” Winn would never have bet he would have ever taken this tone with the woman on the phone, but this was beyond what was prudent. In truth, he had already been counting every minute he was still alive since punching that Daxamite.

“Oh,” she answered. Then, the line went dead.

——

“And that’s all I know,” Winn finished. His hand began to throb again but the liquor was dulling the pain. Lena tossed back her own drink, grunting as it burned down her throat. She looked around at the various cars in disarray.

“Is there anything else you need?” Winn could lend a capable hand in his own way. They weren’t close, but he always thought Kara was Lena’s match through and through.

“Yeah,” Lena rose. “I’ll need a car.”


End file.
